


Comfort

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s04e08 The First Ones, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 08:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: I always wondered why no one even offered to untie Daniel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag for The First One. this one was unearthed from the primordial mist of time....

I’m gonna kill him, I’m really gonna do it this time. I swear to God if I have to haul his ass out of the fire one more time, he’s gonna be so dead. Right after I make sure he’s okay. I am not kidding.

We’ve been tracking Daniel and his friendly travel agent all over P3X-888. Over hill, over dale, into the water, out of the water. What the hell are these two doing? 

I’ve managed to shove my fear into a dark place and slap a lock onto it. We know Daniel’s alive, his boot prints prove that. Carter, trying to reassure both of us after we found evidence of a water skirmish, is fairly confident that Daniel hadn’t been snaked. 

If he had, she logically theorized, he would have killed the Unas and escaped before now. There are times I really, really appreciate those of superior intelligence. 

So, now we’ve tracked them into a cave and something tells me a showdown looms somewhere inside that cave. One way or another, Daniel’s coming home with us. 

Un-goa’ulded is my preference and I know it’s his, too. We’ve already done the promise-me thing; sealed the deal in blood. Okay, not blood, it was actually whiskey, I believe. But that doesn’t make it any less binding. The shoot-me-if-I-get-snaked pledge. I know he would do it for me. He’d probably go freakin’ nuts afterward, but he’d do it. For me. 

I know a lot of people can’t picture Daniel shooting the shit out of anything, but according to Carter, he blasted an aquarium full of baby snakes without turning a hair. I know he had some bad moments once he got over the shock, but he got over it. 

When he confessed what he had done, it was worth it just to see the look on Bra’tac’s face. The idea of this…scrawny human not only desecrating the temple to steal a symbiote, but then killing the remaining ones was so far beyond what he thought Daniel capable of. That makes the score Daniel: one and Master Bra’tac: a big goose egg. 

So, into the cave we go. 

I can’t even express my relief when Teal’c pointed out Daniel’s scrawled directions on the wall. Oh yeah, he’s still himself, that short but sweet “this way” fairly shrieked Daniel.

What the hell is he doing now? Hands bound in front of him, obviously teetering on the edge of exhaustion, he’s…defending that thing? Begging us not to shoot it? Christ, Daniel, what goes on in that head of yours? And mine? ‘Cause I’m actually standing here listening to him. Not hauling his ass away from that critter. 

I abruptly come to life when big ugly number two makes a charge for a now cringing Daniel. I do what I’ve wanted to do for hours; I unload a clip into something.

Ten minutes later, it’s all over. Daniel and his new best friend have made nice. I’m still in some kind of shock, because it never occurs to me to untie Daniel’s hands. Carter shoots me a snap-out-of-it look and I grab my knife.

“Dammit, Daniel.” I cut the rope quickly. And he grimaces as the feeling starts coming back to hands and arms that have been held in one place far too long. Carter reaches down and picks up the rope, stuffing it in her pack, earning her a smile from Daniel. I

n a matter of seconds, the rope has become an artifact to him. How the hell does he do that? Eighteen hours of being a captive, five minutes of freedom, and he’s back in the archaeologist mode.

“Daniel, you okay?” I really start looking at him now. Other than those rope-burned wrists, a scabbed over cut on his face and eyes wide with shock and/or exhaustion, he looks good. Surprisingly, he looks like a hot shower and a night’s sleep, and he’d be good to go again. The difference in our ages is starting to yawn even larger in front of me. 

“Yeah, Jack, just really, really tired. Can we go home now?”

I hate to tell him, but there’s no way in hell that we’re making it back to the gate by dark. And there’s also no way I’m wandering around this planet after dark with those flying fish of death lying in wait for an unsuspecting Daniel. 

“Let’s go as far as we can, then we’ll set up camp, okay?”

And so we set out. In our usual formation, Teal’c takes point, but that doesn’t prevent him from constantly taking a look back, as if to reassure himself Daniel’s really there. Carter’s walking beside Daniel, digging a power bar out of her pack and giving it to him. 

I can only imagine their conversation; probably about why all the little Goa’ulds have no naquadah in their blood and how significant that is and oooh, don’t you think…? Yeah, whatever. 

I’m watching their six. Well, Daniel’s anyway, because Carter keeps her gun in her hands and her eyes are constantly darting around. 

Teal’c finds a likely spot and Daniel collapses. And I realize that I was probably treating him worse than the Unas did. I pushed him, all of them, hard because I just wanted to escape what might have been.

I fall down beside him. “Daniel?”

He rubs his eyes and squints at me. “Jack?”

Oh, crap! I start to release my pack and he automatically helps me get it off. Digging in one of the pockets, I produce the glasses Teal’c had dug out of the dirt.

“Oh, thanks,” he slides them on and peers around our soon-to-be campsite. And starts to get up. I grab his arm, avoid touching those painful looking wrists.

“Jack, I was just gonna help Teal’c..”

I shake my head. “Sit this one out, Daniel. You need to rest, Carter needs to look at those burns. Let’s just take a minute, okay?”

By the time Carter and Teal’c have pitched the tents and started dinner, Daniel is asleep, his head on my arm, his glasses back in my pack. Carter brings the field kit over and I shift his head onto my leg so she could dress his wrists. 

“Sir, I’ll give him an antibiotic shot, just in case.”

“Carter?”

She shakes her head. “I told you, Sir, I can’t even sense the ones in the water. But if he had been taken, the Goa’uld would already be healing this.” She gently traces the unsightly scratch on his face.

I never thought I’d be thankful for a bruised and battered Daniel.

We wake him up so he can eat. Which he does and promptly goes back to sleep. Between the three of us, we stuff him in a sleeping bag and maneuver him closer to the fire. He doesn’t even flinch when Carter sticks him with that needle.

I sit down opposite him so I can just watch him.

I know, I’m getting sappy in my old age, so sue me. I used to do the same thing with Charlie, just watch him breathe, so swept away in the miracle of him. 

And I’m thinking that even after everything that’s happened to him, Daniel’s still just a kid. 

For some reason, I remember being back at the base, a couple of weeks ago. 

I had walked in on Daniel and one of those other eggheads, Dr. Smith. She’s a skinny redhead who’s of a height to look Daniel in the eye. And she was one of the few folks who would stand up to him when she disagreed with one of his far-out theories. Most of the rest of his staff (God, I still can’t believe they let him supervise people!) are too intimidated by him. Not by Daniel, the person, but Daniel, the brain.

Anyway, the two of them had their heads together, bent over some kind of ancient script. And they were giggling. I mean, giggling and snickering. I had to know. 

“What’s so damn funny?” The laughter ended abruptly. Two heads shot up with identical looks of shock, and…embarrassment? Twin flushes swept over faces whose expressions I could now only describe as guilty. I strode over to the desk only to have Daniel snatch something and stuff it underneath him. For God’s sake, he sat on it! Whatever it was, he was hiding it. I really had to know. “Daniel, give.” I held my hand out. I could see Dr. Smith was quaking; Daniel was not.

Daniel jerked his chin up, his face still flushed, folded his arms. “No,” he said softly.

I stared, stunned. “No? Dr. Daniel Jackson,” if I had known his middle name, I would have inserted it in there, that’s what my mother always did. Note to self; discover Daniel’s middle name. “I am your commanding officer and I hereby order you to move your ass. Now.” I have seen Marines tremble in fear when I used that tone. Then I saw his lips twitch. Dammit, the little shit was laughing at me! 

That’s where I lost it. I leaped and grabbed him, jerking him off the chair. I know where his ticklish spots are. By this time, he was gasping, squirming, trying to pull me away from his desk, pleading with Dr. Smith to get ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ was.

I tightened my hold on him. “Dr. Smith, I am ordering you to fetch me whatever the hell it was.”

And she hesitated, damn her, and looked for guidance to Daniel, who was now hanging in my arms, laughing, “Don’t do it, Dr. Smith. I’m your commanding off…” Was he mocking me?

Ruthlessly, I cut his breath off, swinging him around as she made a dive. Without a regret, I dropped him heavily to the floor and grabbed, just a hair quicker than she did. 

And I realized that I had just wrestled this base’s chief archaeologist, multiple PHD holder, galactic planet hopper and all-around boy genius for a comic book.

A comic book?

Daniel hadn’t even made an attempt to get up; he just laid there and shuddered. I don’t think I have ever seen him laugh that hard. Still pissed, I rolled up the comic book and whacked him over the head with it, like you do with a dog you’re trying to train. He told me later that he damn neared peed on himself.

I didn’t see what was so funny about that particular comic book, it wasn’t one of my personal favorites. Wait a damn minute, it was my comic book!

I whacked him again.

*

“Colonel?” Carter handing me dinner rudely brings me back to the present. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Fine, Carter,” I shoot another glance at Daniel, I don’t think he’s moved an inch since he dove back into sleep. She doesn’t even have to follow my glance.

“Sir, he’s gonna be fine. Janet’ll give him an MRI when we get back and we’ll know. But I’m practically certain he’s not a Goa’uld.”

I look up at her. “I’m trusting you on this, Carter.” Those big blue eyes never waver and I realize this trust thing goes both ways. “Carter, I don’t know if I’ve told you this, but you are the finest second in command I’ve ever served with.” She looks like I just suggested something improper, which I would never, ever do. “Carter?”

“Uh, thank you, sir.”

“I take it by your expression that I should have told you that a long time ago?”

She grins from ear to ear. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” She gestures over her shoulder. “I’m just gonna check on Daniel.” 

Carter really takes that ‘big sister’ thing seriously. After we lost Sha’re, she all but moved in with Daniel. She landed at his apartment every night, making sure he ate and slept and talked and grieved. And she pounced every morning when he signed in, forcing him to add real food to his usual breakfast fare of coffee, coffee and more coffee.

She’s not the only one smiling. Daniel’s safe and sound, if a little battered. At least he didn’t get snaked, like Rothman….shit! 

I’ve just realized I’m gonna have to break this to Daniel. The fact that Daniel never even thought to ask reinforces just how wiped out he was; he invariably asks about everyone on the mission when something happens. 

I know that he has to know Loder is dead; we found the body just feet from where Teal’c retrieved his glasses. But I have to tell him that the rest of SG11 is dead. So much for my happy mood.

I pull myself up and amble over to sit beside Daniel. Carter had taken advantage of his state to clean that cut on his face. Wonder how he got that? It looks like a knife cut or something similar, but I didn’t see anything like that on the Unas, any of them.

“Sir, he’s probably gone for the night. I’ll take first watch, why don’t you get some sleep? Teal’c’s gonna get Daniel into the tent.” As if by magic, Teal’c appears behind Daniel. I offer to help but Teal’c rebukes me without words (must get Teal’c to teach me that look) and picks Daniel up, sleeping bag and all and carts him off to the waiting tent. 

I follow and help settle Daniel, who never stirs. I don’t even think about it, I unroll my sleeping bag beside his and slide in, knowing I’m not going to get any sleep. But at least I can watch Daniel. 

When Carter relieves me at the end of her watch, she has to shake me several times to rouse me. I usually wake up quickly, but I guess all the worrying and tracking and worrying and shooting Unas’ and worrying, well, I guess it just wore me out. I crawl out of my sleeping bag and the tent. 

“All quiet, sir.”

“Thank you, Carter. Uh, listen, do me a favor.” She nods with a frown. “Sleep in there the rest of the night. I just,” I whisper, like there’s anyone else to hear, “I don’t want him to wake up alone, you know?”

“Yes, sir, be glad to.” She unhooks her P90 and crawls in. I’m betting she checks Daniel before she slides into the sleeping bag I just warmed for her. 

I sit down by the fire she just banked up. “Teal’c?” He slips into the firelight. “The perimeter is secured, O’Neill.” He sits down opposite me. And just stares at me.

“What?” I’m tossing twigs into the fire, not meeting his eyes.

“Daniel Jackson has been rescued and is safe. Why are you not glad?”

“Because sometime tomorrow,” I peer at my watch, “today, I’m gonna have to tell Daniel that I shot his buddy full of holes. Not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Do you not think Daniel Jackson will understand?”

“Oh, yeah, he’ll understand. And then he’ll convince himself it’s his fault. For being here, for getting dragged around on a leash, for all of SG-11 being dead.” 

Teal’c gives me that you-people-are-strange look that we seem to get from him a lot. Well, I seem to get it a lot. Daniel usually gets the look that would be described as affectionately paternal.

And suddenly, I get another flash of a Daniel memory. Teal’c hadn’t been on the team very long, or on the planet very long for that matter, so there were a lot of things he didn’t know. But Daniel knew; he understood when some idiot in the commissary made a remark that could only be construed as an alien slur. 

Daniel leaped up on the guy. I mean, he was up like a shot and if Teal’c hadn’t had excellent reflexes, Daniel would have pounded the guy. I would normally never put money on Daniel in any kind of a fight, but I would have that day. He was all fury and no finesse. Injustice of any kind just inflames that usually peaceful soul.

Fortunately, there is no place in today’s Air Force for that kind of treatment, so the guy was given a letter of reprimand, forced to apologize to Teal’c and advised to stay as far away from Dr. Jackson as possible. 

I personally made sure that son-of-a-bitch never made it onto any SG team; I sure didn’t want Daniel to have to depend on him to cover his six. I wasn’t worried about Teal’c; he wanted to pound the guy once he found out what would have happened to Daniel if that blow had landed. 

Teal’c takes his Daniel duty very seriously.

*

Daniel pops out of bed the next morning for all the world like he hadn’t spent most of the previous two days tied up and dragged around like a badly behaved family pet. 

I leave him drinking coffee, having finally given in to Carter’s attempt to get him to eat something and make a last sweep of the perimeter. As far as I can tell, we were all clear for the last leg of the hike back to the gate, which Coburn assures me is still secured.

He is still nursing a cup of coffee (probably not his first or second or maybe even third) when I plop down next to him.

I grunt my thanks when he pours me a cup.

“So, Jack, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What you are trying not to tell me. What happened to SG11?”

That mind reading thing can be freaky at times; I thought I had perfected the poker face, but obviously not where Daniel was concerned.

I sigh. “They’re all dead, Daniel.”

He doesn’t even flinch; it wasn’t exactly headlines news to him. “Tell me.”

“Loder was killed by the Unas, you know that,” he nods. “Sanchez, too. Hawkins and Rothman got snaked,” I pause, “so we killed them.” 

“Thank you.” His tone is soft.

Whatever reaction I expected, this certainly isn’t it. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m not okay with Robert being dead and I guess I’ll have to get my head around that eventually. Like us, he wouldn’t have wanted to live like that, Jack. I know you didn’t know him like I did, but trust me, it’s what he would have wanted. So, thank you for that. For doing the right thing.” He pats my arm as he rose and heads for the tent Carter is dismantling. 

And leaves me wondering, who is comforting whom?


End file.
